There are no waves. The sea stretches out in front of us, smooth and glassy with miniature movie-like waves peeling off the surface. Mum and Dad are taking Heidi to the airport, so Johanna, Zac and I head down to the beach to wait and see if the surf picks up. Predictably, it doesn’t, but the water looks too perfect to simply observe. Zac and Johanna, not yet brave enough (or stupid enough) to feel the bite of the near freezing water, sit on the sand and watch me stumble into the ocean. I sit on my board, just deep enough that my feet can't touch the bottom, and the water is so crystal clear that I can literally see the grains of sand beneath me. The sun sinks lower in the sky and Zac and Johanna come splashing into the water, interrupting the silence, but bringing with them a sense of familiarity, so different to the unknown of the sea. While Zac attempts to catch the barely formed waves, I sit on the board and watch Johanna dancing in the shallows. When the cold gets too much for her, she stands on the shore line and watches us drifting with the waves, before heading home with numb toes. Zac, still admiring the grommies who manage to surf the tiny waves, outlasts me, so I sit on the beach until the sand turns purple, and the last light of the day is swallowed by the sky.
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